


The Preacher's Son

by Setcheti



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bigotry & Prejudice, Child Abandonment, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, Past Child Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months had gone by since the last time the orphan train had come and gone, but this time one frightened little boy in particular caught Josiah's eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Preacher's Son

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after reading the first story in the Little Britches AU, which had been opened up by its creator for everyone to play in. To give you some idea of how long ago that actually was, my son was about to turn 9 when I started the story (which is where I got Ezra at that age), and now he’s 22. 
> 
> Now for the disturbing part: The concept of ‘bad blood’ is the idea that a child is destined to emulate the moral failings of their birth parent(s), even if the erring parent has no part in raising the child - a rather extreme interpretation of 'nature vs. nurture'. This mindset used to be very common, which accounted in some places for the harsh treatment orphans or foundlings received at the hands of their caretakers. Unfortunately, there are people who still consider this idea to be valid today.

Six months had gone by since the last time the orphan train had come and gone, and this time the nuns and their little charges were just stopping in Four Corners for the night before boarding yet another train that would take them farther west to a place where many families were awaiting new additions.  Josiah watched the children with a smile and a prayer, hoping those families would be good ones. 

One child in particular caught his eye, a very small boy with light brown hair who seemed to hold himself apart from the other children but yet who also appeared to be watching everything that went on around him as though afraid he would miss something of vital importance.  The boy noticed the big man’s scrutiny almost immediately and Josiah had a glimpse of wary green eyes in a carefully expressionless face before the object of his interest slipped back into the crowd of other children and disappeared.  “Wonder what that’s all about,” the preacher murmured. 

“You must have seen Ezra,” Sister Therese said, startling him.  He looked down at her with a question in his eyes and she didn’t quite smile.  “I’m guessing he was curious about something or you wouldn’t have seen him at all; he tends to blend in with his surroundings unless he has a reason not to.” 

“Little strange for a boy that small, isn’t it?” 

“He’s only small for his age,” the nun corrected.  “He’s just nine years old…but he acts so much older.”  She bit her lip, looking at the other children and knowing that the one she was talking about was doubtless watching her even though she couldn’t see him.  “Ezra isn’t really a child at all, except in body.” 

Josiah frowned.  “Sister?  Want to tell me about it?” 

Sister Therese sighed.  “The other children are here because they have no parents; Ezra’s mother just didn’t want him.” 

“ _What_?!” 

“It gets worse.”  She shook her head.  “She’s done it four or five times before.” 

Josiah’s mouth dropped open.  “You mean she’ll leave him and then…” 

“…come back when she needs him, yes,” Sister Therese finished.  “From what we can tell, she’s a con artist of some sort; she comes looking for him when it is to her advantage to have a child—and she always finds him, no matter where he is.  I was hoping that this time if I took him far enough away…” 

The words came out before he even had a chance to think about it.  “Leave him here.” 

She was startled.  “Reverend Sanchez?” 

“Leave him here,” Josiah repeated.  There was an angry set to his jaw and a hard light in his eyes.  “Nine years old is too young to be leadin’ that kind of life.  I’ll adopt the boy myself…and I guarantee that woman won’t get him away from _me_.” 

The nun was flabbergasted.  “But…you don’t know anything about him!” 

The gaze the big preacher looked down at her with was very level.  “That’s something I can rectify over time,” he said quietly.  “Are there any problems I should know about right off?” 

Sister Therese shook her head.  “No…no, he’s scrupulously polite, he does whatever you tell him and he never has a hair out of place—if he gets dirty, he disappears and comes back cleaned up without ever saying a word.” 

Josiah sighed.  “I guess you’re right, then; he isn’t a child.  Is there anything he likes to do?” 

She shrugged.  “He plays with the younger children if they ask him, although it’s more like he’s entertaining them than playing with them.  And he tries to hide it, but I know he likes to read.” 

To her surprise, the big preacher’s face blossomed with a pleased smile.  “That’s something we have in common, then - I believe you’ve just given me the opening I need, Sister.” 

 

Josiah didn’t approach the boy that night, but he tried to watch for him and noticed a few things the nun hadn’t mentioned.  Ezra did play with the younger children, but he wasn’t just entertaining them; he was trying to keep them out of trouble and he did a good job, too.  And when he slept he was as cautious and wary as an animal without a burrow.  He slept very lightly, waking at every sound but with only the tiniest glitter of green showing beneath his dark lashes as he looked for the source of the disturbance.  Josiah recognized fear when he saw it and he didn’t like it, not at all.  He knew what it was like to be small and helpless and afraid, and as he himself went to bed he sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks that Ezra had been brought into his care. 

 

The preacher woke early the next morning so he could see to his visitors’ breakfast. The two nuns were still asleep, and a quick check of the other blankets showed that two children were missing.  One of the missing was Ezra and Josiah almost started to panic, remembering Vin and JD’s attempt to run away six months before, but then he heard the sound of the back door opening and small feet shuffling along the worn wooden floor and he relaxed again – they’d just been to the outhouse, apparently.  Sure enough, Ezra appeared leading a smaller child by the hand…and froze like a frightened rabbit when he saw the big preacher standing in the center of the room.  Josiah kept his own reaction casual.  “Helping the little one, son?” 

Ezra nodded…and waited.  It took Josiah a minute to realize the boy was waiting for more of a response, waiting to see what would happen next.  He quickly ran through half a dozen different approaches to the situation and decided he might as well take the opportunity to start getting the child used to him.  “Want to come help me with breakfast, Ezra?” 

“Yes, suh.”  Ezra immediately released the smaller boy’s hand and whispered something to him that sent him scurrying back to his blanket.  Then he took two steps toward the preacher and looked up at him – a long way up, Josiah wasn’t a small man.  “What shall ah do first, suh?” 

_Well, well; a little Southern gentleman_ , Josiah thought, smiling down at the little boy.  “I was going to make up some porridge, could you set out bowls and spoons for everyone?” 

The light brown head dipped once.  “Yes, suh,” Ezra said again, and followed him to the church’s small kitchen at a cautious distance.  Josiah showed him where the bowls and spoons were kept before poking up the banked fire in the stove and getting the water ready in his largest pot.  

The boy worked quickly, and Josiah was a little startled when he turned around to get the tin of oats and found Ezra standing silent behind him, waiting again.  “Finished already?” he asked in surprise. 

That garnered him another polite affirmative, but Josiah had seen the well-concealed flinch and realized Ezra had taken the comment as an accusation.  “You sure work fast,” he approved, hoping to reassure the boy.  “Want to get the tin of oatmeal for me?” 

The boy immediately looked toward the shelf where Josiah kept his supplies, nodded once and then scurried to pull a chair over to stand on so he could reach.  The quick look Ezra cast over his shoulder was evidently to make sure it was all right to stand on the chair in the first place, then he climbed up to get the heavy tin and very carefully delivered it to Josiah before hurrying to put the chair back in its place.  This time the boy didn’t wait for Josiah to notice him.  “Ah can do that for you, suh.” 

Josiah raised an eyebrow.  “You want to stir the oatmeal?” 

“Ah know how,” the boy assured him quickly.  “Ah won’t let it burn.” 

“Wasn’t what I asked you,” the preacher corrected.  This time he was expecting the almost-flinch but it still hurt him to see it.  He turned away from the stove and got down on one knee to put himself closer to the boy’s eye level.  “What I asked was if you _wanted_ to do it, Ezra.” 

Ezra looked at him like he’d lost his mind – the distinction Josiah was making was clearly one he couldn’t comprehend.  “If you want me to do it, suh, ah will.” 

Josiah sighed and hung his head; the message wasn’t getting through.  He decided to let it go for the moment.  “Okay, son, you can stir it.”  Ezra immediately went for the chair again, but this time Josiah lifted him up onto it so he wouldn’t burn himself on the stove.  The boy felt too light to him, and the preacher made a mental note to have Nathan take a look at him as soon as the healer got back to town.  He stood and watched Ezra stir the thickening oatmeal for a few moments, then went out to start waking the other children. 

When he came back into the kitchen to check on things, he found that Ezra had already moved the heavy pot to a cooler part of the stove but was still stirring it to keep it from sticking.  Josiah took him down from the chair and moved him out of the way before taking the oatmeal out to the waiting children, then came back and stopped him from trying to clean things up.  “Oh no you don’t,” the big preacher rumbled, and then startled Ezra all over again by scooping him up and carrying him out to where the others were sitting.  _Yep, definitely too light_ , he thought again.  He also didn’t miss the way the boy stiffened in his gentle embrace, or the worried, suspicious look in the green eyes when Josiah put him down.  “Plenty of time for work after we eat,” Josiah told him with a smile.  “And since you did such a good job cooking that oatmeal, I’d say it’s only right that you get the first helping.” 

If anything that seemed to worry the boy more than ever, but he only nodded his head and accepted the bowl the preacher handed him without another word.  Josiah watched out of the corner of his eye and saw that Ezra ate very little, only about a third of what was in the bowl, before surreptitiously passing what remained off to another child who devoured it hungrily.  He’d seen Vin do the same for JD, but Josiah didn’t think Ezra was sharing his food for the same reason.  “Do you want some more, Ezra?” he asked, just in case. 

The boy shook his head.  “No, suh, ah’ve had plenty.” 

Josiah didn’t think he was lying, and based on what he’d already observed he found himself inclined to attribute the small appetite to a nervous disposition.  _Which would explain why he’s so small and thin_ , the preacher thought to himself.  He deliberately pushed aside the question as to why the child had been allowed to continue on that way and instead concentrated on what he could do about it in the future.  A capricious appetite could be tempted with good food, he knew, and Mrs. Potter who ran the dry goods store was an excellent cook with two rosy, healthy children; he made a mental note to ask her advice on the subject as soon as possible.  “Well then, do you want to help me in the kitchen some more or do you want to play for a while?” 

That earned him a duplicate of the same disbelieving look he’d gotten earlier, the same flash of suspicion.  “Ah can clean the kitchen for you, suh.” 

Josiah traded a look with Sister Therese and shook his head.  “Wasn’t what I asked you, son,” he replied heavily, pushing himself to his feet.  “But come on, then, let’s gather up these bowls.” 

They were almost done with the washing up before Josiah broached the subject of staying.  “Ezra, how would you like to stay here with me instead of getting on the train this afternoon?” 

He could have sworn the boy sighed.  “Ah can stay if you want me to, suh.  If you need help, ah’ll do whatevah you want me to…” 

“Ain’t why I want you to stay,” Josiah interrupted gently.  He took Ezra’s chin in his hand and tipped his head up so he could look into the boy’s eyes.  “I’m more than capable of doin’ my own chores around here, Ezra, but I do get awful lonely sometimes.  And after I talked to Sister Therese, I thought maybe you’d like to stay someplace you wouldn’t have to be afraid of leaving.  She told me about what keeps happening with your mother.” 

Ezra’s pale face flushed and shadows clouded the bright green eyes.  “Your pahdon, suh, but she doesn’t understand; it isn’t fittin’ for me to travel with Mothah much of the time since ah can’t pull mah own weight.  Mothah always comes to find me when ah can accompany her without bein’ a burden.” 

The words were shockingly matter-of-fact and rang of repetition, and Josiah felt the anger from the day before boil up again.  He knew, however, that it would be a bad idea to express that anger to Ezra.  “Everyone should pull their own weight, that’s true,” he replied seriously.  “But caring for a child is part of the sacred trust of being a parent; it’s an honor and a privilege, not a burden.” 

He smiled a little sadly at the shocked expression that his words had caused and went back to the dishes, letting Ezra digest what he’d said.  When they were finished he lifted the boy down from the chair.  “You don’t have to help me, suh,” Ezra told him hesitantly.  “Ah’ll be careful, ah won’t break the chair.” 

Josiah  shook his head.  “I’m more worried about the chair breakin’ _you_ , son – rickety old thing’s likely to come apart underneath you, and a boy can’t be replaced like a chair.  If you agree to stay, we’ll have to get that chair fixed.”  He gave the little boy a thoughtful look.  “Should we plan to get it fixed, Ezra?” 

The boy bit his lip and the green eyes searched Josiah’s face for a long moment…and then Ezra nodded slowly.  “Yes, suh, ah believe we should.” 

Josiah beamed at him.  “Glad to hear it.”  He held out his hand.  “Why don’t you come with me for a minute, there’s something I’d like to show you.”  Ezra bit his lip again and Josiah immediately pulled his hand back.  “Or you can just walk beside me, that’s okay too.” 

The boy nodded again and fell into step with him and Josiah led the way to his own room near the back of the church.  Ezra entered the small room with evident trepidation so the preacher left the door open behind them to ease his mind.  _Just gonna have to get used to me_ , he reminded himself.  _Figure out I’m not gonna hurt him, then we’ll be okay_.  “This was what I wanted to show you, Sister Therese said you liked to read.” 

Ezra’s eyes widened as he took in the three shelves of books that Josiah had along one wall, but the look he turned up to the big preacher was devastated, almost ashamed.  “Ah understand, suh; ah won’t touch them.” 

For a minute Josiah didn’t think he’d heard that small voice right, and then it hit him that Ezra must think the nun had pointed out his attraction to books as a problem that would have to be dealt with.  In some places that might be true, but this certainly wasn’t one of them.  Instead of trying to argue, however, he asked, “Have you read any of these before?” 

The boy straightened like a little soldier and his face became nearly expressionless although the green eyes were bleak.  “Yes suh, several of them.” 

 “Which one did you like the best?” 

A small sigh, and Ezra looked at his shoes.  “Ah…liked them all, suh.” 

Josiah had to smile.  “I like them all too,” he said, startling the boy.  He stepped closer to the shelves and scanned the titles, then pulled down a well-worn book with a brown cloth cover stamped in faded gold.  “This is one of my favorites, I love Dumas.  Have you ever read this one?”  Ezra shook his head, and Josiah immediately held the book out to him.  “I think you might like it.” 

After a moment of fearful hesitation Ezra took it from him, and Josiah couldn’t help but notice the way the boy’s small hands clasped the worn book, as though it were the most precious thing in the world.  _This child doesn’t like to read, he loves to read_ , the preacher realized.  _Probably as smart as a whip, too, I’ll have to keep that in mind_.  He patted the brown head gently, suppressing the pain he felt when he saw the effort Ezra made not to flinch away from his hand.  “Why don’t you go out back by the well where it’s cool to read that?”  Ezra looked from the big man to the book and back with evident worry.  _Ah, I see.  Well, that’s easy enough to fix_.  “That book is yours, Ezra.  I’m giving it to you.” 

 He hadn’t thought those green eyes could get any wider, but they did.  “ For what, suh?” 

The preacher sighed silently.  Nine years old, and the boy already expected there to be a string attached.  “Because you love books and so do I, and I want you to have one that’s all yours.  Once we get your room fixed up you can help me put up a shelf for books, all right?” 

“M- _mah_ room? Ah’m goin’ to have a _room_?” 

The innocent surprise in the question was Josiah’s undoing; he was suddenly, inexplicably glad that the child’s mother had taken him from those other homes, from people who undoubtedly had seen an orphan as nothing more than a servant they didn’t have to pay - not that the boy’s mother had been any better though, from the sound of it.  Josiah went down on one knee so he could look Ezra in the eye.  “Ezra,” he said softly, stroking the brown hair again.  “I’m adopting you, you’re going to be my little boy from now on…you’re going to be my son.  And I know it isn’t easy being a preacher’s son, but I’m going to try to be the best father I can for you.”  The boy still looked confused and a little suspicious, and Josiah patted his shoulder.  “I know you don’t trust me yet and that’s all right; trust has to be earned.  We have all the time in the world.  Now run along outside and read your book, the other children will be leaving soon and then you and I will see about getting you settled in.” 

 

Nathan had just returned to town and was coming over to the church to have a look at the latest batch of orphans before they moved on when he noticed a few of them clustered by the well around a small boy with a book.  Drawing closer, he saw that it was one of Josiah’s books and frowned; the little boy that was holding it seemed to be more possessive than he should, scolding the others when they touched it, refusing to let anyone else hold it.  _Sounds like someone needs to be put back in his place_ , he thought.  With a tired sigh he walked right up to the children and snatched the book out of the boy’s hands.  “That ain’t yours,” he scolded.  “No call for you to be so stingy with it.  Does the preacher even know you’ve got it out here or did you just take it when he wasn’t lookin’?”  The boy was staring up at him with a horrified expression on his face that Nathan took as confirmation he’d been right.  “Yep, that’s what I thought.  Come on, you’re comin’ with me, gonna find out what happens to folks that take stuff that ain’t theirs around here.” 

He reached out a large hand to grab hold of the boy but found himself grasping air as the small figure darted away from him and ran as though his life depended on it.  The other children had run just as quickly back into the church, but Nathan was confident he could remember which ones they were.  He did need to find the other one, though… “You’re jus’ gonna make it worse on yourself!” he called out.  “You better get over here right now, boy…” 

Josiah came thundering out of the church with a panicked expression on his face and one of the nuns right behind him.  He saw Nathan holding the book and froze.  “I didn’t know you were back from the village, Nathan.  What’s goin’ on here?” 

Nathan made a face.  “Looks like you got a bad seed in this batch, stole one of your books and then run away when I tried to get hold of him to bring him to justice.”  He handed the book back to the preacher, who took it with a stricken look.  “Just got back from the village, lucky thing too.” 

“Lucky thing?”  Josiah’s voice was too soft, too even - it was the voice he used when he was trying very hard to act like a man of God even though he really didn’t want to.  “Nate, you just got back from a long ride…I think maybe you better go on home and get some rest.” 

“But I was comin’ over here to have a look at the children…”  The healer was confused, both his friend and the nun looked upset but not apparently about the boy stealing the book.  He was missing something here.  “Josiah, what’s goin’ on?  I was just tryin’ to help …” 

 “You scared them all half to death, Nathan,” the preacher interrupted, unable to keep a touch of sharpness out of his tone.  “Sister, why don’t you go on back in and get the children ready to go?  I’ll take care of this.” 

She put a hand on his arm.  “Reverend, we’ll walk the children down to the station; you just find Ezra.” 

Josiah smiled down at her and then gave her a hug.  “Thank you, Sister, but I hope that won’t be necessary.  Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” 

“Sister,” Nathan said, even more confused.  “Sorry I didn’t get to visit with you this time.” 

“Mr. Jackson,” she replied stiffly, and then walked back into the church. 

Nathan returned his attention to Josiah.  “I’ll help you find him, didn’t know it was so close to time for them to leave.  Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he gets on that train…” 

“Ezra is not getting on the train,” Josiah rumbled, his voice not quite so even now.  “I’m adopting him.  And I gave him this,” he held up the book, “as a gift, because he loves to read.” 

The healer’s mouth fell open.  “You…you’re takin’ in that little Southron boy, Josiah?” 

Something flickered in the preacher’s pale blue eyes.  “You’ve always been real patient with children, Nathan, even the skittish ones,” he said slowly.  “You’re real good with Vin, never rush him or scare him at all and he’s mighty easy to scare.  So I’m just gonna take it on faith that what happened here happened because you just got back from a long ride and you’re real tired.  I’ll bring Ezra by tomorrow and you can introduce yourself and apologize to him then.” 

Nathan started to say something…and then thought better of it.  “All right,” he said.  “I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, then.  I…”  He hesitated, then said quietly, “I’m sorry, Josiah.” 

Josiah just nodded.  “Get some rest, Nathan.”  He watched the healer until he was well away from the church and then the preacher’s firm facade crumbled, replaced by a look of deep dismay.  _Been a father just a few hours and already failed to protect him_ , he berated himself, looking around and trying to figure out where the boy might have hidden himself.  It was just a feeling, but he was certain Ezra wouldn’t run away the way Vin had just a few months ago.  No, he would be hiding, waiting someplace until it was safe to come out.  And he probably wouldn’t have gone too far… 

…Which meant there was only one place he could be.  Josiah walked around the side of the church, going to the woodbin that sat crookedly in an outjutting angle of the adobe building.  He peered down into the dark gap between the bin and the wall and saw two huge, terrified emerald eyes staring back up at him.  “It’s okay, son, he’s gone.” 

“Gone?”  The small voice was suspicious.  “Maybe you just want me to come out.” 

“Well, I do want you to come out,” Josiah admitted quietly, hoping that the honest approach wouldn’t backfire on him.  “But I wouldn’t lie to you to get you to come out.  I sent Nathan away.” 

The eyes blinked, taking that in.  “But will he sneak back when you’re not lookin’?” 

Josiah almost smiled, but he realized the boy was deadly serious.  “I don’t think so, but I’ll keep my eyes open if it’ll make you feel better.  Okay?” 

The brown head slowly poked up out of its hiding place, eyes alert for any sudden movement.  Satisfied that no one was waiting to grab him, the little boy stood up and turned his very unchildish gaze on Josiah.  “You can’t be too careful, Reverend Sanchez,” he informed the preacher seriously.  “Mothah told me not to trust anybody, evah…but will you promise not to tell on me for trustin’ you?” 

The big preacher smiled, although he felt like his heart was breaking; how could anyone raise a child in such a manner?  “I promise, Ezra,” he said with equal seriousness.  “If I ever happen to see your mama, I won’t tell her that you trusted me.”  

He held out the book for the boy to take, and was surprised when Ezra immediately put his hands behind his back and dropped his eyes.  “Ah’d best not, suh.” 

Josiah silently damned Nathan again, seeing the guilt plain in the boy’s face even though he’d done nothing wrong.  He got down on one knee so he could be closer to Ezra’s level.  “Of course you should, it’s your book.  Nathan had just got back into town and he was tired from his ride, he’ll apologize tomorrow and then you’ll see.”  He couldn’t even begin to express the relief he felt when the small hands gingerly took the book from his large ones.  Josiah slowly stood up again and then extended a hopeful hand.  “Sister Therese and Sister Maria are taking the others down to the station, we can still catch up so you can say goodbye, if you’d like.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Ezra’s small hand slid into Josiah’s as cautiously as if he were putting it into a lion’s mouth; when nothing happened the boy relaxed slightly, although he still clutched the precious book tightly against his chest with his free arm.  “Yes, please, suh.  Ah’d like that very much.” 

 

Josiah stayed at the church the rest of that day after seeing the nuns and the other orphans off, giving Ezra a chance to get used to his new home.  The sisters had written out a paper for him to show to the circuit judge stating the situation with the boy’s mother, so the preacher wasn’t concerned about being able to legally adopt the boy; Judge Travis was a fair-minded man who loved children, they weren’t going to have any problems there.  The church had a small room just beside Josiah’s bedroom that was usually used for storage, and once the two of them had shifted the contents down to the basement and set up a cot it made a capital bedroom for Ezra.  Josiah rustled up a sturdy crate to serve as a bedside table and another to hold his clothes…which directly resulted in the realization that the only clothes Ezra had were the ones he was wearing.  So Josiah had gone to the box he kept for people in the town to donate unneeded clothing to those who could use it and had thankfully found a few things that would fit well enough once they were mended.  After fixing a simple supper the preacher tucked his new son into bed – a novel experience for both of them – and then went to bed himself, looking forward to the next day. 

And the next morning when he got up…all the mending he’d set aside was done, finished with tiny little stitches that made Josiah think of elves helping deserving shoemakers.   His own particular elf was just then coming inside with a bucket of water from the well and froze in his tracks when he saw the preacher standing there with the repaired clothing in his hand.  “Is…is it all right, suh?  Ah can do it ovah again if it’s not.” 

Josiah smiled at him and put down the clothes.  “You did just fine, Ezra – much better than I could have done, at that.”  He put the clothes down and then went to take the heavy bucket and carry it into the kitchen.  “Where’d you learn to sew so nicely?” 

“Mendin’ is not acceptable, but if it has to be done it shouldn’t be seen,” was his answer.  “Ah’ve been doin’ Mothah’s mendin’ for years now, although it took me fah too long to learn to do it properly.”  Repetition again, Josiah noticed.  Ezra watched him pour some of the water into the teakettle and set the rest aside.  “Ah could have done that, suh.” 

The boy sounded almost guilty, and Josiah shook his head.  “Know you probably could have, but to get up here you would’ve had to use that busted chair again,” he said.  “We’ll ask Buck about fixing the chair if we see him today, all right?” 

Ezra nodded.  “Is he a craftsman, suh?” 

“Nope, just a friend who’s good with wood,” Josiah told him – although he was sure Buck would be more than happy to claim the offered title.  “He and his friend Chris have a horse ranch outside of town and they’re part of the law around here.  They also have two boys, JD and Vin, and I’m hoping they’ll come into town today so I can introduce you.”  He ladled more water into a smallish pot and added oatmeal – and, on a whim, some pieces of dried apple as well.  “And after breakfast you and I will go over to see Nathan at his clinic so he can make sure you’re healthy, okay?” 

Ezra was looking confused again.  “Ah’m not sick, suh.  Ah don’t need a doctah.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re sick either,” the big preacher agreed.  “But it can’t hurt to have him take a look.  He won’t hurt you, Ezra, he’ll just look.” 

The boy appeared to accept that, but he bit his lip several times during the course of their breakfast and morning chores and Josiah knew he was still thinking the situation over.  He didn’t want Ezra to know it, but he himself wasn’t sure either; he kept telling himself that yesterday’s incident had only happened because Nathan was tired and irritable from his long ride back to town, but still that hint of uncertainty remained.  ‘ _You’re takin’ in that little Southron boy, Josiah?’_   His concern wasn’t strong enough to prevent him taking the boy to be checked over, though, and so as soon as the last chore was done they set off for the clinic. 

Ezra had been quicker to take Josiah’s hand today, and the big preacher could feel tension in that small appendage that wasn’t immediately evident in the boy’s face or posture.  He could also see that those green eyes were carefully flicking over every building and every person in the street, noting every sudden movement and every concealing shadow.  And it was only a slight, almost unnoticeable tightening of the small grip on his hand that gave away Ezra’s growing trepidation as they ascended the stairs up to Nathan’s clinic and knocked on the door.    

The healer opened the door after a moment and stood back to let his friend and the little boy enter.  “Josiah.” 

The big preacher smiled at him.  “Brother, if you’ve got the time right now I was hoping you could look Ezra over, make sure everything is as it should be.  Thought maybe we could properly introduce the two of you, too, seein’ as how you kind of got off on the wrong foot yesterday.” He didn’t wait for his friend’s nod.  “Ezra, this is my friend Nathan Jackson.” 

“Pleased to meet you, suh,” the boy said politely.  “Ezra Standish at your suhvice.” 

The full force of the boy’s thick Southern drawl hit Nathan like a slap in the face; he hadn’t heard the like since he’d escaped the Deep South years ago, and it stirred up feelings in him he’d thought long buried.  He smiled with an effort, trying to remind himself that this was just a child who could be molded into a decent human being with proper guidance.  “Ezra, I’m glad you’re goin’ to be stayin’ with Josiah, he could use an extra pair of hands over there at the church and I know you’ll learn to be a help to him in time.”  He saw the abortive flinch and was pleased, hoping it meant the boy had a sense of guilt if not responsibility, but he failed to notice the pained expression that crossed his friend’s face at the same time.  “Now why don’t you come on over here to the table and I’ll make sure you’re healthy?” 

The boy shot a quick, nervous glance up at Josiah and received a reassuring smile.  “It’s okay, Ezra, I’ll be right here.” 

“Yes suh.”  The small hand detached reluctantly from the preacher’s grasp and Ezra walked over to the indicated table and immediately looked for a way to climb up onto it, starting visibly when Nathan without warning picked him up and sat him on the table’s edge.  “T-thank you, suh.” 

“Go ahead and take off your shirt, Ezra,” the healer told him briskly.  He critically watched the boy do as he was told, noting that the small fingers were shaking slightly and filing the observation aside for later consideration.  But he frowned when Ezra tried to fold the shirt before laying it aside.  “Ain’t no need to do that, just put it down.” 

Surprised green eyes flew up to meet his disapproving brown ones.  “But…clothin’ must be taken propah care of to forestall the necessity of its replacement, suh.” 

The frown deepened a little while Nathan tried to work that out, but Josiah stepped in before he could say anything else.  “That’s a good way to look at it, Ezra; things do last longer if you take care of them.” 

“Good to be thinkin’ on that, I suppose,” Nathan agreed grudgingly.  He wasn’t pleased that the boy had talked back, but didn’t feel that he could say anything since Josiah didn’t seem inclined to issue a reprimand; he just hoped his softhearted friend realized that a child like this one would have to be raised with a firm hand and even such a small transgression really shouldn’t be ignored.  Once the shirt had been quickly but carefully folded and placed off to one side he moved in to conduct his examination.  “You been sickly at all, Ezra?” 

Ezra shook his head, but the gesture was forestalled by the healer’s callused fingers feeling of the glands in his neck to check for swelling.  “No suh.” 

“Hmm, thought maybe you’d been off your feed for some reason,” Nathan said, lightly touching the boy’s ribs.  “You’ll have to start eatin’ what’s put in front of you, bein’ finicky ain’t gonna get you nowhere.”  He ran his hands across the narrow shoulders and down the slender arms, feeling the bones underneath the pale flesh.  “You broke this here arm, the left one?” 

“Ah didn’t mean to do it, suh.” 

Nathan frowned again, wondering why the boy felt the need to disclaim responsibility for a broken bone.  Maybe he’d been doing something he wasn’t supposed to?  That was probably it in a nutshell.  “Well, feels like it healed up pretty good.  Now let’s have a look at your back, make sure it’s straight.”  

He moved around the other side of the boy…and gasped in surprise at what he saw.  Josiah was beside him in an instant.  “Nathan, what…”  His mouth fell open.  “Oh my Lord…Ezra, who did this to you?” 

Ezra dropped his head and sighed almost inaudibly.  “It was mah deserved punishment, suh.  It takes fah too long for me to learn to do things properly.” 

“So you mentioned this morning, but I’m not convinced the person who told you that was correct.”  The preacher touched a careful finger to one of the lash marks that marred the boy’s fair skin.  “Your mother did this?” 

“Oh no suh, it would be unseemly for a lady to lower herself so,” came the automatic response.  “But she arranged for me to be properly trained to accompany her when ah was needed, and ah was disgracefully remiss at reachin’ the goals set for me within the allotted time.”  Ezra turned his head just enough to look at Josiah with wide, worried green eyes.  “Ah’ll do bettah, suh, you have mah word.” 

Tears stung Josiah’s eyes, and he wrapped one large hand around the trembling shoulder and touched the boy’s cheek with the other.  “Ezra, I’m sure you tried your best.” 

“Ah tried, suh,” Ezra whispered.  “But ah wasn’t supposed to _try_ , ah was supposed to do what was required of me.” 

“Well tryin’ is just fine with me,” the big preacher rumbled unevenly.  “Nathan?” 

“Looks like a riding crop or a little dog whip,” the healer shrugged noncommittally.  He was definitely going to have to have a talk with Josiah about discipline, probably sooner and not later if the boy were to be kept well in hand.  Apparently Ezra’s mother had had the way of it, whether she handled the matter herself or not; Nathan wondered if maybe she’d been from the North.  “What happened to your mama, Ezra?” 

“Mothah  had business to take care of and couldn’t be burdened with the likes of me,” was the matter-of-fact answer.  “An opportunity came up and she sent me back to the mission until ah was necessary to her again.” 

Nathan shot a quick look at Josiah, who nodded.  “Sister Therese said Ezra’s mother is some sort of conwoman, she’s left him at the mission more than once.” 

The healer just barely fought down the urge to yell at his friend.  Adopting a little son of the Confederacy was one thing, a firm hand could eventually drum out the failings of his heritage, but what kind of fool knowingly takes on a child with bad blood in his veins?  The boy was tainted and always would be, all the discipline in the world wouldn’t fix him.  He couldn’t believe that the Sisters had foisted this problem off on Josiah, of all people – and after all the big preacher had done for them, too.  “Well, from the looks of it those whippin’s didn’t do no real damage, don’t see that there’s any problem there,” he said.  He listened to Ezra’s breathing and found it clear, then checked the thick brown hair for lice and was pleased not to locate any.  “Looks like everything’s fine, Josiah, don’t see anything worth worryin’ about.  Anything you set him to he should be able to do just fine.” 

That last was said in a slightly warning tone which was obviously directed at the boy, and the preacher gave his friend an odd, almost disbelieving look before he helped Ezra to put his shirt back on and then carefully lifted him down off the table.  “Appreciate you takin’ a look, Nathan,” he said slowly, keeping hold of his new son’s hand.  “We’d best be goin’ now, know you probably have things to take care of.” 

“See you later, Josiah,” the healer replied solemnly.  “You let me know if you have any problems.” 

“Not anticipatin’ any,” Josiah said evenly, squeezing the small, cold hand he held.  He led Ezra out of the clinic and back down to the boardwalk, at which point he stopped and lifted the boy into his arms.  “Ezra, I’m glad you’re all right.  And I’m mighty proud of the way you faced your fear, I know it must’ve been hard for you to let Nathan poke and prod you like that after what happened yesterday.”  Ezra’s mouth dropped open in pure astonishment and the big preacher tightened his hold into a gentle hug.  He released him as soon as he felt the boy start to tense up again.  “And Nathan will come around, it may just take him a little while to get used to you; it kind of took him by surprise yesterday when I told him I was adopting you.” 

Ezra gave him a considering look, the too-old look the preacher was already starting to hate.  “He does not like me, suh, ah could tell.” 

Yes, Josiah had been able to tell too; he thought part of it might be Ezra’s thick Virginia drawl, but he had the feeling that there had been something more going through the healer’s mind than memories of his life as a slave.  He would give Nathan time, though; his friend was one of the kindest, gentlest men he knew, this had to be just a passing thing.  “He’ll come around,” the preacher repeated firmly, giving the boy another squeeze.  “You’re a good little boy, Ezra, the Sisters thought so and I think so too.” 

He put the boy down again and hand in hand they walked over to the jail.  The front door was open, and from inside came a ruckus that could only be caused by a small child, punctuated here and there by a deeper male rumble that was probably not quite as disapproving as it should have been.  Josiah winked at Ezra and then boomed out, “I’m guessin’ Chris didn’t come in with you this morning, Brother Buck.” 

They were standing in the door by this time, and the tall, dark haired man sitting behind the battered desk laughed out loud.  “Nope, him ‘n Vin stayed home to do up some fence that new stallion kicked to pieces.  So what’re you doin’ over here…”  He caught sight of Ezra, who was watching JD jump on the cot in the jail cell with wide eyes.  “Josiah, who’s this little fella?” 

The preacher grinned.  “This is Ezra, Buck.  Ezra, remember when I told you about Buck?” 

Ezra tore his eyes away from the jail cell and the small boy jumping enthusiastically on the cot within it and nodded.  “The craftsman, yes suh, ah remembah.”  He visibly steeled himself and left the safety of the preacher’s side to hold out his hand to the astonished cowboy.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, suh.” 

Buck took the small hand and shook it gingerly.  “Pleasure to meet you too, Ezra.”  He cocked an eyebrow up at Josiah.  “Craftsman?” 

The big man shrugged.  “Got a chair that needs fixin’, figured maybe you could take care of it for me.” 

“I can do that.”  Buck grinned back at him.  “Craftsman, I like the sound of that.”  He turned his attention back to the boy and smiled.  “Now you don’t look no bigger than Vin and he’s seven goin, on eight, I’m guessin’ you’re about his age, right?” 

Ezra looked a little worried and appeared to be thinking that over, then very cautiously said, “Ah believe ah’m nine, suh…if that’s all right?” 

Buck was puzzled by the question, but Josiah caught on almost at once.  “It’s all right, Ezra, you don’t have to pretend to be a different age than what you are.  He’s just small for his age, Buck.” 

“Nine?”  JD had stopped bouncing and was pressing his face against the bars, staring at Ezra.  “You older than Vin!” 

“JD, why don’t you get out of there and come meet Ezra?” Buck requested.  The five year old obediently vacated the cell – much to Ezra’s surprise – and bounded over to the older boy with a wide grin.  “I’m JD, wanna play?  We can bounce on the cot, it’s fun and Mr. Buck says it don’t matter none since folks in jail don’t need to sleep too easy nohow.” 

“No more bouncing,” Buck corrected, looking a little embarrassed by the amused look Josiah was giving him.  “And you need to make up that bed again, Little Bit, you’ve done made a mess out of it.” 

JD pouted, but Ezra immediately jumped in.  “Ah’ll do that for you, suh.”  He started to walk to the cell, then stopped and held out his hand for JD, who took it happily.  Inside the cell he sat the five year old down in a corner well away from the bed and whispered something to him, then set about straightening the crooked mattress and rumpled blankets with quick efficiency while JD watched him.  Once done he turned back to the little boy.  “All right, how long did it take?” 

“I runned out of numbers,” JD replied.  “But I counted all the ones I knowed, is that okay?” 

“That is just fine,” Ezra reassured him, helping him up, brushing him off and taking his hand again.  “That is mah fault, ah should have asked how many you knew before we started.  What numbah did you get to?” 

“Twenty-nineteen,” the little boy said proudly.  “That’s a whole bunch!” 

“Yes, it is,” Ezra replied gravely.  He led JD back out of the cell and over to Buck.  “Suh, what would you like us to do now?” 

“Can I show Ezra my secret place behind the jail?”  JD bounced excitedly.  “I ain’t got to take nobody to see it yet, can I Buck?” 

“I suppose you can do that,” Buck told him with a fond grin, leaning forward to ruffle the dark hair.  “As long as you stay back there and don’t go runnin’ off someplace else.” 

“Ah’ll look out for him, suh,” Ezra assured him solemnly.  He turned to look up at Josiah.  “If that’s all right with you, Reverend Sanchez?” 

Josiah smiled.  “Yes son, that’s all right with me.  I’ll just talk to Buck here while JD shows you and then you and I can go run some more errands.” 

Whatever no doubt polite response Ezra was going to make was drowned out by JD’s excited squeal and then the smaller boy was dragging him out the door.  Buck chuckled and shook his head.  “Danged if that boy just don’t ever wind down – I thought for sure jumpin’ on the cot would tire him out some.”  He cocked a questioning eyebrow at Josiah.  “Decided to get one of your own, huh?” 

The big preacher sighed and sat down in the visitor’s chair, but he was still smiling.  “Somethin’ like that.  Secret place?” 

Buck laughed.  “Somebody done left a big ol’ crate in the alley, JD drug it up behind the jail and he’s been hidin’ stuff in it all morning.  So what made you do it, Josiah?” 

“He needed me,” was the preacher’s answer.  “I’ll tell you and Chris all about it later, but I really don’t want to get into it here where just anyone could walk in.” 

“Bad?” 

“Not that kind of bad,” Josiah reassured him.  “Just want to keep it in the family, so to speak.  But he’s a good little boy, and it’s my hope he’ll learn to be a happy one once I prove to him he can trust me.” 

“Oh, he’s like Vin,” Buck observed, nodding his understanding.  “Well Josiah, if anyone can get through to him it’s you.  You’ve been a big help to Chris with Vin.” 

“Done my best,” Josiah replied.  “Vin’s a good boy too.  Just wish everyone in both these boys’ lives could have seen that instead of seein’ a burden or a little servant to be used.” 

“Amen to that,” Buck answered with feeling.  “Ain’t never been able to figure some people out that way, just don’t seem natural.” 

“Nope, it sure doesn’t.”  Josiah deliberately pushed aside more thoughts of Nathan, not wanting to bring that up with Buck and possibly cause trouble between the two men.  It would blow over, he was sure of it.  Another idea came to him, though.  “Twenty-nineteen, brother?” 

The mustached man looked embarrassed again.  “Aw hell, Josiah, I ain’t no kind of a teacher – and you know how hard it is to get JD to sit still and think about one thing for more than a minute.” 

“I know, Buck – didn’t mean to imply you weren’t doin’ a good job with the boy,” the preacher apologized quickly.  “But I was thinkin’ that Ezra will need some schooling, maybe Vin and JD could have their lessons right along with him so he won’t be all by himself.” 

Buck nodded, understanding what he was getting at.  “The three of them should be able to catch on to each other right well,” he agreed.  “I’ll tell Chris about it when JD and I get back to the ranch tonight, he’s been worryin’ about Vin gettin’ some book learnin’.” 

A clatter of small boots on the boardwalk alerted them that the boys were returning, and JD’s very loud small voice announced them at the door.  “I want Ezra to stay!  Can we keep him, Buck?  He can sleep wif Vin an’ me in our bed.” 

“Ezra is living with me, JD,” Josiah explained with a smile, taking his boy’s hand reassuringly.  “He has his own room and his own bed already.  But you and Vin can play with him when you come into town, will that be good enough?” 

JD pouted.  “You gonna stay wif Mr. Josiah?  But I wanted you to stay wif us!” 

“Little Bit,” Buck scolded lightly, warning off the tantrum he could see building.  He pulled the little boy into his lap and held him close.  “Josiah is gonna be Ezra’s daddy, just like me and Chris are to you and Vin.  Three boys, three daddies, see how it works?  That way it’s all even.” 

“Three an’ three?”  JD thought about it, and then he gave Buck a hug.  “Okay.  I sorry I was startin’ to be bad.” 

Buck returned the hug with a fond smile.  “Yeah, but you didn’t get all the way there, that’s what matters.  Now say goodbye to Josiah and Ezra, they’ve got stuff to get done.  Maybe we’ll see you two at lunch?” 

“We could probably do that,” Josiah answered.  “What do you say, Ezra, should we go to the restaurant for lunch today?” 

Astonished green eyes looked back up at him.  “If that’s what you want, suh.  But ah can make mah own lunch if you’d rathah ah did.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Josiah saw Buck shake his head sadly and he restrained a sigh of his own.  “No son, I want you to come with me,” he rumbled, smiling gently at the boy.  “We’ll meet Buck and JD over there after we’re done with our errands, all right?”  When Ezra nodded he squeezed his hand.  “We’ll see you at lunch, then,” he told Buck. 

JD’s enthusiastic goodbye followed them out onto the boardwalk, and Ezra looked back over his shoulder at the jail.  “JD is what’s known as precocious,” Josiah told him, still smiling.  “He’s a good little boy, but he’s got the energy of three children and he’s smart as a whip.” 

Ezra appeared to digest that, and then turned those serious eyes up to Josiah.  “And Vin?” 

“Vin is on the quiet side,” was the answer.  “He has a bad back so he doesn’t usually jump around as much as JD, and Chris keeps him to home a lot because he’s…well, Vin’s still kind of shy of folks outside his family.” 

The boy nodded, inexplicably looking worried and a little sad.  “He is kept out of sight to avoid causin’ his caretaker embarrassment, ah understand.” 

The matter-of-fact words stopped the big preacher dead in his tracks.  “No!” he exclaimed.  He saw Ezra’s eyes widen just a fraction and immediately went down on one knee to the boy’s level, not wanting to frighten him, putting his hand on the small shoulder.  “No, Ezra, it’s not like that,” he said more quietly.  The fearful, resigned look in those green eyes hurt him, but there was also a desire to believe there that heartened him considerably.  “Vin’s adopted father Chris loves him very much, he’d never be ashamed of him.  But Vin is…Vin is like you, son, he don’t trust people too easily and he’s a bit too old for his age so he doesn’t get on too well with the other boys in town, they just don’t understand each other.”  He decided to ask a question he really didn’t want to.  “Is that what happened to you, son, bein’ kept out of sight?” 

Ezra blinked at him.  “Mothah says unless a child can be of use they should be kept away where they will not trouble anyone.”  He blinked again, and this time Josiah saw the faint shimmer of tears.  “Ah tried to be useful, truly ah did.” 

“I’m sure you did just fine,” Josiah reassured him.  “And I think you’re plenty helpful, but I want you to be _happy_ too.  I won’t ever think you’re trouble, you have my word on that.  Your best will always be good enough for me.”  On a whim, he pulled the small body into a very brief hug and then just as quickly released him.  “Now why don’t we go see Mrs. Potter over at the store and then we’ll have lunch with Buck and JD, all right?” 

The boy nodded, then hesitated a moment and held up his hand to Josiah; the big man took it with a smile. 

 

Mrs. Potter was quite surprised to hear that Josiah had adopted a boy from the orphan train, but once over the initial shock she was quick to offer her congratulations.  “He looks like a fine little boy,” she told him, smiling down at Ezra.  “Just as thin as poor little Vin was when he got here, though; it makes me wonder just what kind of care they’re getting at those orphan homes, that no one notices when they’re not eating properly.” 

Josiah wasn’t going to say it, but he’d often wondered that himself; many of the children that came through  on the train had the look of being overworked and underfed.  Not all of the nuns were as kind as Sister Therese, and in fact he knew that some of them believed the orphans’ families had been punished by God and the children themselves were therefore tainted as well.  He didn’t believe that, though.  “I was kind of hoping for your help with that, sister,” he rumbled.  “I do well enough for myself, but I’m not much of a cook.  I was hoping that you might be willing to share some recipes with me that a growing boy would like.” 

The storekeeper absolutely beamed at him.  She was a motherly woman whose desire for a large family had been cut short when her husband had been murdered just over a year earlier, leaving her with two small children who were now just slightly older than little JD and were her pride and joy.  “I would be happy to help you in any way I can, Reverend Sanchez,” she told him.  “I’ll write some things down tonight for you to try, things Ceddy and Sissy enjoy.  Unless this young man has any particular favorites?” 

Ezra tensed.  “Ah…ah eat what is put in front of me, ma’am,” he offered cautiously. 

Josiah winced, but before he could say anything Mrs. Potter shook her head at him and then circled around the counter to stand in front of Ezra; her blue eyes saddened when the boy made an obvious effort not to flinch away from her as she bent to cup his cheek.  “Ezra,” she said softly, “whoever told you that was most likely trying to teach you that food is not to be wasted, which it isn’t.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t choose what you like to eat on occasion.  Now what is it you like more than anything else?” 

“Cinnamon toast,” Ezra said at once, but there was still a wariness in his green eyes.  “And cocoa.  Ah had cinnamon toast and cocoa once and it was very good.” 

“I think that’s very good myself,” she agreed, patting his cheek before going back behind the counter.  “So I’m thinking that Reverend Sanchez will be needing some cocoa powder and tinned milk, won’t he?” 

The boy cast a worried look up at Josiah, but the preacher only smiled.  “Yes, I believe I will.  I like cocoa before bed myself, but it’s better when I have someone to share it with.  And I’ll also be needing some more oats and a jar of honey if you have any.” 

“I have two jars left, as luck would have it,” she told him.  “And I’d guess you’ll be needing some more raisins too?” 

Josiah ducked his head sheepishly.  “Half a pound, if you please, sister.”  He saw Ezra’s curious look and winked at him.  “I dearly love raisins, extravagance though they are.  Mrs. Potter, I don’t suppose you have any boy’s socks that might fit Ezra, do you?” 

The storekeeper finished filling the small linen bag with raisins from the bin and checked her stock with a frown.  “I don’t think I have any that small, no.  But I can ask Mrs. Rikersen to knit a pair or two.” 

“I’d appreciate that, sister.”  Josiah was sure the Rikersens would too; Olaf Rikersen was the only blacksmith in town, but the preacher knew for a fact that business had been slow lately.  “Ezra, can you think of anything else we need?” 

The boy blinked up at him.  “You’re runnin’ rathah low on sewin’ thread, suh.” 

“Sewing thread?”  Mrs. Potter came back with the oats and put them on the counter next to the raisins and the jar of honey.  “Did you have some mending that needed done, Reverend?” 

“Did have, don’t any more,” Josiah replied proudly.  He saw that Ezra was looking nervous again and carefully rested one hand on his narrow shoulder.  “When I got up this morning Ezra here had finished it all.” 

The woman gaped at him, then at the worried boy.  “You know how to sew, Ezra?”  When the boy nodded hesitantly  she reached over the counter and ruffled his hair.  “Now child, don’t you be embarrassed about that; there’s no shame in being able to do for yourself, even if you are a boy - my son is learning to stitch a nine-patch quilt right alongside his sister.  Have you ever done that?”  Ezra looked even more worried and shook his head.  “Well then, someday Reverend Sanchez can bring you to visit and I’ll show you.” 

Josiah squeezed Ezra’s shoulder again to let him know it was all right.  “We’ll have to take you up on that, Mrs. Potter,” he answered.  “I bet Ezra would enjoy it – I know my sister used to, when she’d stitch quilts with our mother.”  Ezra looked up at him in surprise, and Josiah smiled sadly.  “No one ever said doin’ somethin’ useful couldn’t be fun too, son.  Mama always used to say that every scrap went into a quilt had a story to go with it, and she’d tell them to us while she sewed.  She said all those stories would make sweet dreams for a person slept under the quilt.” 

Ezra’s green eyes widened with astonishment, and Mrs. Potter bit back a sigh; the boy had obviously had a hard life, maybe even harder than poor little Vin’s, a life with little room for sentimental fancies in it.  “What a beautiful idea, Reverend Sanchez,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.  “I tell my two stories while we sew in the evenings, and I’ve always thought a blanket made by hand slept warmer than one machine-pieced in a city.  Now is there anything else you’ll be needing today?  I’m sure Ezra is going to be wanting his lunch soon, you don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

“Ah…ah don’t mind, ma’am,” Ezra corrected her quickly, but politely.  “Ah can wait.  And…ah’m not often hungry.” 

The storekeeper smiled at him gently, not missing the way the big preacher winced at the words.  “We’ll fix that, young man,” she told him.  “Growing boys need their food, and I guarantee you your new father and I can find that lost appetite for you.  Just give us time.  Now would you like a stick candy?  I have some horehound and some cinnamon left, if Reverend Sanchez says it’s all right.” 

Ezra looked confused, and Josiah winced again.  “Have you…have you ever had stick candy before, son?” 

“Once, suh,” the boy answered at once.  “It was red and it made mah hands sticky.” 

“Did you like it?”  Ezra looked unsure.  “How about if we try the horehound, then?  It won’t stain your fingers or your clothes.” 

“It won’t?”  The relief in that small voice told Josiah he’d guessed right; Ezra’s mother must have been mighty unhappy about the mess caused by the stick candy, he didn’t doubt the boy had been punished for it.  “Then ah’d like to have some, suh, if it’s all right with you.” 

“I’ll even share it with you so we neither one spoil our lunch,” Josiah told him with a smile.  “We’ll take a stick of horehound, Mrs. Potter.” 

The storekeeper smiled back at him and selected a fat, shiny stick from the tall glass jar of candy, presenting it to Ezra with a flourish and smiling even wider when the boy immediately held it out to Josiah to be shared.  She packed up the rest of the preacher’s purchases and took the coins he carefully counted out to pay for it.  “Thank you, Reverend Sanchez.  Are you going to the restaurant for lunch today?” 

“Yep, meeting Buck and JD over there,” he told her.  “Chris and Vin stayed home to fix fence.” 

“Again?  He really has to do something about that stallion, it sounds like an absolute menace.”  She pushed the wrapped bundle across the counter to him, making sure it was far enough away from Ezra to keep him from reaching for it.  “Well you two enjoy your lunch, and next week we’ll pick an evening for you to come for supper with us.” 

“Will do, Mrs. Potter, and thank you.”  Josiah saluted her with the half-stick of candy he was holding, shifting the bundle to the crook of one arm so he could take Ezra’s free hand with the other.  “If Mrs. Rikersen has time to make those socks, tell her she can give them to me after church on Sunday.” 

“I’ll let her know.  Nice to meet you, Ezra.” 

“Goodbye, ma’am.”  Ezra didn’t speak again until he and Josiah had crossed the dusty street and gone back into the church.  Josiah let the silence stand, figuring the boy needed a little time to process their morning activities, and sure enough by the time all their supplies were put away Ezra was ready to talk again.  “Are you certain you want me to come to the restaurant with you, suh?” 

“Wouldn’t go without you,” Josiah told him evenly.  “If I go, you go, Ezra.” 

The boy took a meditative suck off his stick candy, his little face so serious it was all the big preacher could to not to smile.  “But what if ah make a mistake?” 

Josiah was almost certain he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to say that because he didn’t want to reinforce the cruel lessons the boy’s mother had taught him.  “Everybody makes mistakes,” he said.  “If one of us does, we’ll just fix it and go on, all right?”  A tentative nod, which was enough for Josiah.  “Now why don’t we wrap up our candy in some paper and head on over to the restaurant?” 

 

Lunch at the restaurant was…interesting.  Ezra was so polite to the waitress that the poor girl barely seemed to know what to do with him, and he actually had a complaint about the chicken and dumplings he was served.  “This isn’t the way ah make them,” he told Josiah, very softly. 

The big preacher reflected that he really shouldn’t be surprised.  “You know how to cook, Ezra?” 

“Ah know how to help cook.”  The boy blinked up at him and then turned back to his plate with a sigh.  “These have too much peppah in them.” 

Josiah had to smile; the restaurant’s cook _did_ have a rather heavy hand with the pepper sometimes, although that was probably just to cover up the gamey taste of whatever bird was masquerading as chicken that day.  The ‘real’ chickens got reserved for frying.  “I’ll explain it to you later, son,” he whispered, smiling.  “And someday you can show me how you do it, all right?” 

That actually netted him a smile, and then Ezra went back to eating.  Nathan didn’t make an appearance at the restaurant while they were there, for which Josiah was grateful, and after they had finished lunch they took JD back to the church while Buck made his afternoon patrol. 

Chris rode in while Buck was gone, Vin perched on the saddle in front of him, and suffered through JD’s enthusiastic – and ramblingly long – introduction to Ezra.  He waited until the youngest boy had dragged his cousin and new friend off to the back of the church before raising a questioning eyebrow at Josiah.  “Any particular reason?” 

“He needed me.”  Josiah shrugged and led Larabee inside, getting out the paper the nuns had written for him so that Chris could read it.  “That’s pretty much it in a nutshell.  I didn’t figure the judge would have any problem with it.” 

“Most likely not.”  Chris shook his head over the paper, scanning it again before handing it back.  The eyebrow arched again, cool turquoise blue eyes thoughtful.  “How’s it going so far?” 

“Good,” was Josiah’s answer.  “Better once he gets used to me, stops bein’ afraid.” 

“Takes a while.”  The gunslinger was speaking from experience; he’d had Vin just over six months, and the boy still had bouts of insecurity when he was overwhelmed by the fear of being sent away.  He smiled slightly.  “You can do it, you’ve got more patience than I do.” 

“You have plenty when it comes to Vin,” Josiah told him.  “JD too, and so does Buck.  Those boys couldn’t have found a better family.” 

Chris smiled again and changed the subject.  “So tell me about your new son, Preacher.  You had him up to Nathan’s?”  He didn’t miss the older man’s grimace.  “Problem?” 

“One or two.”  Josiah waved it away with one hand.  “He and Nate didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but I figure that will work itself out in time.  And Ezra’s got a back full of whip marks, said his mother had someone do it because he didn’t learn fast enough.  Then when I said I was sure he’d tried his best, he told me he wasn’t supposed to ‘try’, he was supposed to ‘do what was required’.”  He shook his head.  “Don’t see how the woman could have been so hard on a child that way, I just don’t.” 

“It don’t make much sense, does it?”  Chris was thinking of his own problems with Vin, of the things the boy had been ‘taught’ during his time as an orphan, of the fears those cruel teachings had drummed so deeply into him.  That was something, though.  “Him’n Vin should get along pretty well together, might be a help to both of ‘em.” 

“I was thinking the same, brother.”  Josiah’s smile came back.  “And speaking of helping, when we were over at the jail earlier I couldn’t help but notice that JD runs out of numbers after he hits twenty…”  

 

Chris thought it was a wonderful idea to have Josiah teach the boys, and so the following week lessons began.  It wasn’t easy to instruct three such disparate learners at the same time but the preacher persevered and progress was being made.  Progress of another kind was being made as well; two shy little boys too old for their years were quickly becoming fast friends, finding common ground with each other that they didn’t have with the other children in town.  And JD, now basking in the protective attention of both his cousin and Ezra, had no cause to feel left out or even the least bit jealous. 

That didn’t mean there weren’t problems, though.  Ezra loved  books and was possessed of a quick mind that absorbed new information like a sponge while Vin, although far from being slow, had had little prior exposure to book learning of any kind and so struggled through each lesson.  Josiah was very patient with Vin and made sure that Chris knew how hard the boy was working to acquire the knowledge that Ezra and even JD soaked up with so much less effort.  All the praise and encouragement his cousin was given, though, only served to confuse JD.  He frowned a little every time Josiah told Vin he was smart, but it wasn’t until the day Ezra contradicted Vin’s assertion that he ‘just wasn’t smart enough’ that the little boy spoke his mind.  “No, he ain’t,” the five year old proclaimed loudly, startling everyone.  “Vin can’t learn ‘cause he’s stupid.” 

Vin’s fair skin reddened with embarrassment and he hung his head, big blue eyes filling with tears as he pushed his book and slate away.  “Ya didn’t have to tell, JD.” 

“Mr. Buck and Mr. Chris says we hafta tell the truth all the time,” JD maintained, still frowning.  “An’ the truth is you’re stupid, Mr. Hobbs said so lots of times.” 

Vin sniffed and slumped even further into himself, ignoring Ezra’s tentative hand on his shoulder, and Josiah shook his head.  “JD,” he said sternly, “Vin is not stupid and that was a very mean thing for you to say.  I don’t know this Mr. Hobbs, but he was wrong and you need to apologize to your cousin right now.” 

JD folded his arms, radiating self-righteousness in the way that only a small  child can.  “Don’t have to ‘pologize for tellin’ the truth, not ever – Mr. Nathan said that.” 

Josiah just resisted the temptation to roll his eyes; Nathan might be honest but he could also be shockingly rude sometimes, not a good trait for him to be teaching the boys.  “JD,” the preacher said sternly.  “You know you aren’t allowed to talk back to your elders like that.  Ezra, would you mind taking JD over to the jail and telling Chris and Buck what’s happened?  Go straight over there and don’t stop along the way, and  then you can come back and play with Vin.  I think we’ve had enough lessons for today.” 

Ezra patted Vin’s slumped shoulder awkwardly before standing up.  “Yes suh,” he said, holding out his hand to JD.  “Ah’ll be back directly, suh.” 

“I know you will, be careful in the street.”  The big preacher watched his son lead a pouting and still defiant JD out of the church before turning his attention back to Vin.  “And now young man,” he rumbled.  “I want to know all about this foolish Mr. Hobbs…” 

JD’s defiance only lasted halfway across the street, at which point it dissolved into tears.  He didn’t know why he was in trouble for telling the truth, but he knew that trouble wasn’t where he wanted to be.  Ezra was relentless, though, and no matter how much JD cried the older boy refused to stop dragging him toward the jail. 

They had just reached the livery stable when Nathan stepped in.  The healer had just come out of the livery himself and was about to head back up to his clinic when he saw the boys, and he was on it at once.  “What’s goin’ on here, what are doin’ to him?!” he demanded of Ezra, pulling JD away from him.  Ezra just stared up at him in shock, his green eyes filled with fear, and with a scowl Nathan turned to JD.  “You tell me, JD, tell me what’s goin’ on here.” 

“Said Vin was stupid,” JD said stubbornly, swiping at his eyes again with a grubby fist.  “And that’s right, Vin is stupid, I know so cause he told me.” 

Ezra flinched, and Nathan’s scowl deepened.  “You two headed over to the jail with this?” he demanded of the older boy.  “Goin’ to tell Chris?” 

“Yes suh, Mistah Jackson,” Ezra replied softly.  “Reverend Sanchez said not to stop…” 

“I told you to stop,” Nathan reprimanded him.  “Now you just get on over to that jail and tell Chris that I said he was to go back to the church with you.” 

“But ah was supposed to take JD…” 

“Don’t you talk back,” the healer snapped at him.  “I done told you what to do, now get to it – and don’t you even think about weaslin’ out of it neither.  Get goin’.” 

Ezra swallowed and nodded, even more frightened, and then he darted toward the jail.  Nathan watched until the boy was out of sight and then his scowl faded.  He picked JD up spoke seriously to him.  “Now, JD, I don’t ever want this to happen again, you hear me?  From now on you don’t listen to that boy because he’ll always lead you wrong.” 

The five-year old’s brown eyes widened.  “B-but Mr. Nathan, Ezra’s my friend…” 

“He ain’t your friend,” the healer insisted firmly.  “His kind ain’t no one’s friend, it’s all just a big lie.  He’s no good, JD, so you just don’t pay no attention to anything he tells you.  And you tell Vin the same, ‘cause if you two get into trouble from listenin’ to Ezra I’m gonna be real disappointed in you both.  You understand me?” 

JD’s lower lip trembled, but he nodded.  “I un’erstand, Mr. Nathan.  Do I still hafta go to the jail now?” 

Nathan gave him a hug.  “No, ‘course you don’t; you run on back to Vin, I bet he’s plenty upset about what happened.  I’ll see you two when we all go out to the lake on Sunday, all right?” 

The little boy nodded again and Nathan set him down.  “That’s right, I’m gonna catch a fish!” he exclaimed.  “Bye, Mr. Nathan!” 

“Bye, JD.”  The healer watched him dart down the street and disappear back into the church.  A moment later he saw Chris emerge from the jail holding Ezra by the hand and the two of them marched to the same destination.  Chris looked angry and worried, and Nathan felt a glow of satisfaction that troubled him for a moment; somehow it didn’t seem quite right to be pleased about the situation, especially knowing that Ezra was probably about to get a beating he’d long remember.  The healer soothed the nagging ache in his conscience, however, by thinking about how hurt poor Vin must have been when the little Southern boy called him stupid.  Ezra deserved everything he was going to get and then some. 

 

Josiah almost breathed a sigh of relief when the last parishioner left his small church on Sunday morning.  Everything was ready for their trip to the lake just a mile or so outside of town and the preacher was more than ready to be going.  The past few days Ezra had been quiet and withdrawn and hadn’t even wanted to play with Vin and JD; he’d done his chores and more besides, and when he couldn’t find any more work to do he’d vanish into his room with his book and not come out until he was called out to eat – and even then, he only talked when he had to.  Josiah was quickly going past worried to frightened, and he was praying that some time away from town with nothing to do but have fun would help his adopted son let loose of whatever it was that was bothering him. 

Chris and Buck had been worried about their boys too.  Vin had drawn back into himself a little since JD had called him stupid and still seemed to be angry with his cousin, and he had also started getting up early to do extra chores again.  And JD had refused to play with Ezra since that same incident on the grounds that the older boy would get him into trouble; both men’s assertion that JD had gotten himself into trouble seemed to confuse him although they couldn’t understand why.  Buck was hoping that once the boys all started to play together at the lake the whole thing would blow over, but Chris had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.  He was still wondering why Nathan had kept JD that day and sent Ezra on to the jail without him, and he had a bad feeling that somehow the healer might be at the root of their problem. 

Chris wasn’t blind to the fact that Nathan didn’t like Ezra, but he didn’t think the boy’s place of origin had as much to do with it as some of the others in town did; in all the time he’d known Nathan he’d never known blind prejudice to be one of the man’s faults.  No, there was something else going on, something the healer knew - or thought he knew - that the rest of them didn’t.  Chris had wanted to confront him about the whole thing earlier in the week but the opportunity had never come up, and now he was just hoping that the situation didn’t explode on them before he’d had a chance to corner Nathan and drag and explanation out of him. 

 

The ride to the lake was very quiet, too quiet.  Ezra and Vin weren’t talking, either of them, and JD was far from being his usual ebullient self either.  Nathan for some reason had tried to put his horse between Josiah and Chris when they first set out, and he hadn’t looked too happy when Chris had told him to drop back because the boys might want to talk to each other while they rode.  Josiah noticed that the healer kept frowning at Ezra whenever the boy seemed like he might speak to Vin, though, and he more than once caught a look passing between the two little boys that worried him quite a bit.  It was another ‘too-old’ look, a look that spoke of fear and resignation, and it made the preacher angry to see it.  He exchanged a look of his own with Chris and received a slight nod that signaled the gunslinger’s agreement; once the boys were off playing and out of earshot, their fathers were going to have a little talk with Nathan Jackson. 

Getting the boys to leave them alone turned out to be a bigger problem than anticipated, though; Josiah finally had to blatantly step between Nathan and Ezra, blocking his son’s view of the healer, to get him to agree to go play with Vin and JD.  “Son, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, feeling Nathan’s hard gaze on his back before Buck evidently caught on and led the healer away.  “You were looking forward to this trip, Buck said he’d teach you how to fish…what happened?”  Ezra just shook his head, and Josiah decided not to press him.  “Okay, it’s all right,” he soothed.  “We can talk about it later, for right now you just go try to have fun.  And remember, don’t go in the water – it’s still too cold for swimming.” 

“Yes suh.”  Were those big green eyes filling up with tears?  Ezra looked away before Josiah could tell for sure.  “Ah’ll look aftah the boys.” 

“You’ll _play_ with the boys,” Josiah corrected gently, standing back up and patting his son’s head.  “Just have fun, Ezra.” 

“Ah’ll…ah’ll try, suh.”  The little boy shuffled off and fell into step with Vin, and Josiah couldn’t help but notice that JD deliberately placed himself on the other side of Vin instead of between the two older boys the way he’d been doing for the past few weeks.  And he also noticed that Nathan’s dark eyes followed the boys suspiciously until they were out of sight. 

Chris had noticed as well, and he kept a suspicious eye of his own on the healer while they set up their small camp, tethered the horses and picked out a convenient place to fish.  He waited until everyone was settled before bringing it up.  “You mind telling us just what the problem is, Nathan?” 

The healer started slightly; there had been no missing the edge in Larabee’s voice when he asked the question.  “I’m just worried about the boys,” Nathan answered carefully.  “Vin and JD, they’ve been through enough.  Don’t need to go through any more.” 

“And what exactly does Ezra have to do with that?”  Nathan made a face – not a pleasant one – and Josiah sighed.  “Nathan, Ezra’s been through enough too, just like Vin and JD.  And lately I’ve noticed you’re makin’ it worse.” 

“Kind of hard to miss those looks you keep givin’ the kid,” Buck added, lounging back with his fishing pole.  “He’s just a kid, Nate.  Damned good one too, gonna grow up to be a fine man some day.” 

Nathan snorted, and Josiah’s expression started to darken.  “Care to share that thought with the rest of us, brother?” 

“I’d kind of like to hear it myself,” Chris said, sitting up away from the tree he was leaning on so he had a better view of the healer.  “Since whatever it is I think you’ve spilled it onto my son too.” 

The healer protested that.  “Vin’s a good boy…” 

“Ezra is too, but you sure don’t act like you know that, brother,” Josiah interrupted him.  “Seems like every time you see him you’re lookin’ to find fault whether it’s there to find or not.  And the boy’s had enough of that from his mother.” 

The healer grimaced and opened his mouth, but before he could answer a piercing cry for help echoed out of the trees in their direction and all four men shot to their feet.  Josiah went white.  “That sounded like Ezra!” 

“This way!”  Chris plunged into the trees that topped the bank, heading in the direction the boys had taken earlier with the other men right behind him.  Another cry, closer now, told them they were headed in the right direction, and within minutes the men were bursting into a small clearing just in time to see Ezra pulling a wet, sobbing JD out of the water.  “Ah’ve got to save Vin!” the little boy yelled before diving back in. 

With a curse, Chris began ripping off his boots and gunbelt; seeing two small heads bob up above the water’s surface and then sink back down gave him a direction and he dove into the water and began swimming toward them.  Ezra surfaced again just as he reached them.  “Vin, take Vin,” he coughed out.  Larabee immediately grabbed for the limp form of his foster son and headed back to the bank as quickly as he could, praying they weren’t too late. 

They weren’t; Vin was already starting to cough up water by the time Nathan helped Chris out of the pond, but it was still almost ten minutes before he was coherent enough to say anything besides, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what, little guy?” Chris asked gently, holding the frightened boy close.  “It’s okay, you’re all right and so is JD.  Ain’t nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Weren’t…watchin’ JD good,” Vin choked out.  “Ezra said…” 

“Did Ezra get you two in the water?” Nathan demanded, scowling.  “Didn’t I tell you boys not to listen to him?  He ain’t no good…” 

But Vin was shaking his head, the motion almost indistinguishable from the shudders that were wracking his small body.  “Tha’s what JD said…when Ezra tol’ us not to play in the water.  I tried to get JD, but I couldn’t swim an’…” 

“Shh, it’s okay, Vin,” Larabee soothed.  “We know you tried, it’s okay.  Ezra saved you both.”  He shot a hard glare at the healer before turning his gaze to Buck and JD.  “He okay, Buck?” 

“Jest scared and wet,” Buck said with relief, rocking the five year old gently.  “Josiah took off after Ezra.”  He snorted at Chris’ raised eyebrow.  “He swum off in the opposite direction as you, Cowboy, hit the far bank an’ lit out like the devil was chasin’ him.” 

“Maybe he thought the devil would be,” Chris said slowly, with an accusing look for Nathan.  “When did you have this little ‘talk’ with the boys, Nate?  Would it happen to have been a few days ago when JD got in trouble for sayin’ something mean to Vin?” 

“JD? But…”  The healer was taken aback by the venom in the gunslinger’s tone.  “Chris, I was just tryin’ to…” 

“Protect the boys from little Johnny Reb, yeah, I know,” Larabee cut him off disgustedly, struggling to his feet with Vin held carefully against his chest.  “He’s a nine year old kid, Nathan—and more than that, he’s _Josiah’s_ nine year old kid, so I think you’d better pull your head out of your ass and back the hell off.” 

Larabee was already walking back toward the camp.  Buck climbed to his feet as well and prepared to follow him.  “You almost got JD and Vin killed today, Jackson,” he said with quiet fury, not wanting to wake the sleeping child in his arms.  “JD would have listened to Ezra if you hadn’t told him not to.” 

 

Josiah came back to camp almost thirty minutes later, alone.  “I couldn’t find him,” the preacher said heavily, sinking down beside the small fire.  “Oh Lord, I couldn’t find him, and he wouldn’t come to me when I called.  He must be scared to death.”  He noticed the grim looks on Chris and Buck’s faces and grew more worried still.  “What happened?” 

“Nathan Jackson happened,” Buck said, shaking his head.  “Vin said that Ezra told the boys not to go in the water, but since ol’ Nate here had told them that the little guy was no good an’ not to listen to him, JD decided that today would be a good day for a swim.” 

“Ezra saved their lives,” Chris added unnecessarily.  “You got a right fine boy there, Josiah.” 

“I know,” the preacher said, but he was looking at Nathan.  And then Chris saw something he’d been warned about but had never witnessed firsthand; he saw Josiah Sanchez get mad. 

It was as though the large man hardened before their eyes, every muscle jumping into tense relief.  His light blue eyes paled to a color reminiscent of hard-frozen ice, and there was a look in them that drained all the color from Nathan’s face.  One large hand flexed, almost unconsciously, and the healer raised a hand to his throat as though he could feel those strong fingers tightening around it.  “Josiah…” 

The preacher gained his feet in one frighteningly swift, fluid movement and Nathan almost toppled over backwards, but Josiah made no move to attack him.  “Brothers,” he said, his normally deep voice lowered to a sepulchral growl.  “I need your assistance to find my son.  Nathan will watch over the boys while we search.”  Chris and Buck immediately stood up and moved off in the direction of the lake, but Josiah didn’t move.  His eyes held the now thoroughly frightened healer the way a wolf’s eyes freeze a rabbit.  “If Ezra dies, you die,” he stated before taking off after the other two men. 

Nathan stayed frozen in place for a long time after the preacher disappeared.  He knew that Josiah was his friend, but… 

He began to pray _very_ hard that nothing had happened to Ezra. 

 

It was fully dark before the three men returned; Buck headed straight for the horses while Chris immediately went to check on Vin and JD.  Josiah carefully laid the limp form he carried on a blanket by the fire and began stripping off the still-damp clothes with gentle efficiency.  Ezra never moved or made a sound; his small body was covered with shallow cuts and bruises, and his fair skin held the bluish pallor of a deeply settled chill.  Buck came back with supplies gleaned from his saddlebags and began to clean and bind the worst of the cuts while the preacher tenderly chafed the boy’s cold arms and legs, murmuring softly to him all the while.  All three men ignored Nathan as though he weren’t even there. 

Once Buck had finished, Josiah wrapped his adopted son in a second blanket and cradled him in his arms, scooting closer to the fire.  “How are the boys, Chris?” the big man asked softly. 

“Warm and sleepin’,” the gunslinger answered.  “We’ll wake ‘em up in a bit, head on back to town.” 

The healer in Nathan couldn’t stand it any longer.  “Do you want me to take a look…” 

“You just stay put,” Buck warned quietly, settling himself next to JD and stroking the sleeping child’s dark hair.  “I think you’ve done plenty.” 

“Buck.” 

“No, Chris,”  the cowboy said, still keeping his voice low so as not to wake his son.  “I don’t want ta take a chance on somethin’ like this happenin’ again just because ol’ Nate here don’t like Ezra’s accent.” 

Nathan was stung.  “It ain’t like that…” 

“I’m not so sure it ain’t,” Chris said heavily.  “Buck is right, Nathan; you ain’t never given that boy a chance, and it looks like it’s all because of where he came from.” 

“You’re damn right!” the healer defended himself, also keeping his voice down.  “That boy ain’t never gonna be more than what he is, and what he is ain’t good.  His mama is a crook, a cheat that most likely don’t got any more morals than a rattlesnake; it’s bad blood, I tell you, an’ there ain’t nothin’ you can do to change that.” 

“His mama’s a crook so all he’ll ever be is the son of a crook, is that it?” Buck mused.  “Interestin’ theory you got there, Jackson.  So tell me, what would that make the son of a whore?” 

Nathan’s mouth dropped open and Chris just shook his head.  “Make him a good man and a right fine father,” Josiah rumbled unexpectedly.  “Can tell the woman loved you to pieces just by bein’ around you, Buck; don’t matter what occupation she pursued, so long as the love was there.” 

The cowboy’s expression softened.  “Oh yeah, it was there,” he confirmed, smiling a little at the memory.  “I always knew I was loved, never doubted it for a minute; that’s what I want for JD, too.” 

“And what I want for Ezra,” the preacher agreed.  “He ain’t never had that.  Sister Therese told me that every time they got him settled somewhere his mother showed back up and took him away—happened four or five times, she said.  I asked him to trust me that first day and you know what he said to me?  He asked me not to let his mama know he had ‘cause she’d be mad at him; apparently she told him not to trust anybody, ever.” 

“Vin’s afraid to trust folks too,” Chris said quietly.  “He’s gettin’ better, but there’s still that part of him that’s afraid I’ll get rid of him if he causes me any trouble.” 

“Vin’s gettin’ a lot better in that respect,” Josiah reassured him, shifting Ezra closer to his chest.  “He’s startin’ to act more like a normal little boy now.  I don’t think that’ll happen any time soon for Ezra.” 

“You think she’ll come for him?” Chris wanted to know. 

“Yep, I’m sure of it.”  The big man sighed, pressing a kiss against his adopted son’s forehead and frowning at the growing warmth of it.  “She’ll come huntin’ him soon as she thinks she has a use for him, Sister Therese says that’s the pattern; then she’ll dump him again when it’s over.” 

“Until she needs him again,” Buck said disbelievingly.  “Gawd damn, how can a woman do that to her own flesh and blood?”  

Josiah cuddled Ezra closer to him and sighed.  “I don’t know, brother, I just don’t know.” 

 

The moon’s fat crescent was riding high in the sky by the time they made it back to town.  Chris and Buck went to the rooms they kept at the boarding house with their boys while Josiah took Ezra back home to the church.  Nathan had hesitated when he took the big preacher’s horse, clearly wanting to follow his friend across the street, but a very meaningful look from Chris convinced him to leave that particular desire unvoiced.  The healer saw to the horses and went up to his clinic with a lot to think about. 

Josiah didn’t let all the anguish he was feeling show until he and his adopted son were safely behind the church’s heavy doors.  Taking Ezra to his room and lighting the lamp, he unwound the blanket and tucked the boy under the bedclothes before hurrying to the kitchen to poke up the stove and then out to the well for some fresh water.  He bathed the small, thin body carefully with warm water and then wiped it down with cold in an attempt to stave off the fever that was still building, and then he had a look at the collection of cuts and bruises again and re-doctored them with whiskey from a bottle he kept on hand for just such a purpose.  And all the while he spoke softly to the boy, telling him how proud he was, how grateful Chris and Buck were to him for saving Vin and JD from drowning, how much he loved him and wanted him to wake up… 

And through all of it, Ezra never moved.  Josiah sat in a chair next to Ezra’s bed for the rest of that night, dozing when he could but waking up periodically to check the fever and try to cool it down.  Dawn finally stretched rosy fingers across the open sky and peeked into the little room to find no change, although she did manage to wake Josiah with the promise of a new day’s arrival.  The preacher wasn’t reassured.  He went about the morning chores in fits and starts, not wanting to be away from Ezra for too long at a time lest the boy open his eyes and find himself alone.  Ezra, he decided, had been alone enough in his young life. 

He was back in sitting with Ezra again and doggedly applying more cool water when Mrs. Potter’s voice called to him from the front of the church.  He went as far as the door to Ezra’s room and waved her in, not wanting to yell and possibly startle his son.  She had a basket with her, he saw, and a steaming little teakettle in her other hand, and she immediately took over the situation.  “You, Reverend Sanchez, need to go get a few hours sleep,” she scolded.  “I’ll stay here until you’re rested and do what I can; I brought some honey tea like what I make for my two when they’re ill and some other things as well, and Ezra and I will be just fine.  How much did his fever go up during the night?” 

Josiah blinked at her for a minute before answering.  “It stayed about the same, I’m afraid.  But Mrs. Potter, you have a store to run…” 

“Mary is watching things for me,” she told him firmly.  “Mr. Larabee told us what happened and said that he’d be by later – and he said to tell you that Vin and JD are none the worse for the wetting they took thanks to your brave boy here.”  She stroked Ezra’s soft hair with a mother’s loving touch.  “He’s going to be fine, Mr. Sanchez, I’d have to say he’s probably just gotten a bad chill.  If it was more than that the fever would be going up and down, not staying the same.  Now be off with you, Ezra and I will be right here when you come back.”  

The preacher hesitated a moment more, then leaned over the bed to place a kiss on Ezra’s forehead.  “Thank you kindly, then, sister,” he told the smiling woman.  “You’ll come get me…” 

“Yes, yes, of course – it’s just a chill, I tell you,” she repeated, chivvying him out of the room.  “Now off to bed and to sleep with you!” 

And, to his own surprise, Josiah went and did just that. 

 

It was well past noon when he awoke, and Josiah almost leapt out of bed when he realized how long he’d been asleep.  He made a fast job of cleaning himself up with the tepid water in his washbasin and then left his room with his heart in his throat.  What if Ezra was worse?  Or what if he’d wakened and believed that his adopted father didn’t care enough to stay with him, to make sure he was all right?  The few steps to the boy’s small room seemed both very long and very short. 

Mrs. Potter looked up from her knitting when he appeared in the doorway and smiled at him.  “Well, you certainly look better than you did this morning, Reverend Sanchez.  Did you sleep well?” 

“Too well,” he said, grimacing.  “I do apologize, Mrs. Potter, I had no intention of sleeping the day away like this.” 

“Pshaw, you needed it after the day and night you’d just had.”  She saw the way his worried eyes kept darting over to the sleeping boy in the bed and her smile deepened.  “He’s been awake and he’s going to be fine, just like I told you,” she informed him.  “You’ll just need to keep him in bed and warm for a time, which probably won’t be an easy task since he was very insistent with me that he needed to get up and do his chores before you awoke.”  Gloria put her knitting aside at the preacher’s look of chagrin and got up from the rocker to tug him back over to the door, where their conversation was less likely to disturb Ezra.  “Now before you ask; no, he didn’t believe me when I told him you’d been sitting up with him all night.  As a matter of fact, he seemed to think you would be angry with him, of all the foolish things.  Mr. Larabee came by to see how things were and carried him over to your door so he could see you for himself, but then the poor child seemed more confused than ever.”  She lowered her voice a little more.  “Reverend, Mr. Larabee told me what was at the root of all this, and I believe I owe you an apology.” 

That surprised him.  “Whatever for, sister?” 

She sighed.  “For not telling you what I should have.”  Gloria squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.  “I didn’t want to cause trouble, you see, and carrying a tale is the fastest way to do that; but Mr. Jackson approached Ceddy and Sissy while they were playing last week and told them that they needed to be careful of Ezra because he didn’t know right from wrong and he would get them into trouble.  They brought it straight to me, of course, and I told them it was sheer foolishness and they shouldn’t mind it when people tell them things they know to be untrue…but I know now that I should have said something to someone about the incident, maybe if I had none of this would ever have happened.” 

“Dear God.”  Josiah slumped against the solid support offered by the doorframe and closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.  “You don’t owe me any apologies, Mrs. Potter.  Nathan has had a problem with Ezra since the first time they encountered one another and it only got worse once he learned more about him, but like a fool I…I left it alone, told the boy that Nathan would come around in time.  And this is the result.” 

“Of you trusting a friend,” she chided him gently, giving his arm a little shake.  “Rev… _Josiah_ , you’ve known Mr. Jackson much longer than I have, but even I could hardly believe he would say such a thing about a child – especially a child as sweet-tempered and shy as Ezra.  I have no doubt the boy will get into mischief from time to time, but I guarantee you that plain little-boy mischief is all it will be and nothing more behind it than that.” 

“I’ll be glad to see it when it comes,” he told her sincerely.  He smiled slightly, feeling better in spite of himself.  “Don’t rightly know how to thank you for bein’ such a help to me with the boy, sister.” 

“You’re doing a fine job on your own,” Gloria countered.  “But there are things you just _know_ when you’ve raised one from a baby, and it’s my pleasure to pass those on to you.”  Her hand on his arm tightened reassuringly and then she gave him a little push back into the room.  “Now go sit with your son while I get you something to eat; what that boy needs most right now is his father.” 

 

Josiah sent Mrs. Potter back to her own children after he’d eaten, and it was just over an hour later that Ezra started showing definite signs of waking up again.  He patted the boy’s face gently.  “Ezra?” 

Heavy eyelids blinked once, then twice, and then two slivers of green appeared…which widened into emerald pools of apprehension when the boy saw who was bending over him.  “R-reverend Sanchez.” 

“It’s good to see you awake,” the big preacher rumbled quietly.  He cupped the still-warm cheek in his hand.  “You scared me half to death, son.” 

A tear fattened in Ezra’s eye and rolled down to hit Josiah’s comforting hand.  “Ah’m sorry, suh.  Please…please don’t send me away.  Ah can do bettah, ah promise…” 

“Oh son…”  Josiah scooped the small body up in his arms, blankets and all, and held on tight.  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Ezra; I’m so proud of you I could just burst.  And there’s no way I’ll ever, ever send you away, you understand?” 

Ezra looked up at him.  “P-proud of _me_?  No one’s evah said they were proud of me.” 

“Someone should have,” Josiah told him.  “You’ve got to be the best little boy a man could hope to have as his son, you know that?” 

In answer Ezra burrowed into his arms and clung there, and the preacher sighed and stroked his hair.  What he wouldn’t give right now for five minutes with the boy’s mother… 

 

Two days later, he got his wish.  Ezra was feeling much better by then, although Mrs. Potter had said he still needed to stay in bed a day or so more to keep from getting another chill.  Josiah was more than happy to go along with that, although Ezra was dismayed by the idea and protested more than once that he should certainly get up and do chores.  He was so upset, in fact, that his adopted father compromised with him; Ezra would stay in bed, but the two of them would mend some of the things from the clothes box together for a little while each day.  And when that was done it was time to play.  Josiah dragged out the old chess set he’d had since his youthful wandering days and began teaching Ezra the game, and Vin as well when Chris brought the younger boy over to visit.  In fact, Vin picked up the basic strategy of the game faster than Ezra, much to his surprise.  “Ah told you so,” Ezra said the second time Vin beat him. 

Vin blushed and hung his head.  “It’s just a game, Ezra.  Winnin’ don’t mean I’m smart.” 

“Yes it does, it is a game intellectuals play – right, Reverend Sanchez?” 

Josiah smiled.  “Absolutely right, Ezra.  Chess is a game that pits your mind against someone else’s, it’s a battle of wits.”  He hauled himself up out of his chair with a groan.  “I’ll leave you boys to it for a bit, I need to go stretch my legs some.  You stay in that bed, Ezra.” 

“Yes suh, ah will.” 

“I’ll make sure he does, Mr. Josiah.”  Vin was all seriousness, although still a bit wide-eyed from being told he’d just won a battle of wits and compared to an intellectual.  He didn’t know what an intellectual was, but the way Ezra said it made it sound like something important.  “We’ll just stay here playin’.” 

“I won’t be gone long,” Josiah told them.  “And when I get back maybe we’ll find somethin’ to eat, all right?”  Two nods, Ezra’s a bit less enthusiastic than Vin’s – the lingering fever had all but done away with his already small appetite – and the preacher left the room chuckling.  He’d been right about those two being good for each other. 

Outside it was hot and bright, and Josiah had to squint a bit to adjust his eyes to it.  The first thing he noticed was a fine carriage in front of the livery, far too fine for Four Corners.  A woman whose hair shone like a pile of gold in the sunlight was standing beside it, talking to one of the stable hands, and when Josiah saw the boy gesture toward the church he crossed the dusty street to see what was going on. 

Up close, the woman was as much too fine for Four Corners as her carriage was; beautiful, immaculate despite the heat and dust, and dressed in the height of fashion although not ridiculously so.  To the preacher’s surprise she swept up to him without waiting for an introduction.  “I just saw you come out of that buildin’ over there, would you by chance be Reverend Sanchez?” 

Josiah bowed.  “That I am,” he answered.  “Can I be of assistance to you, Sister?” 

“Oh ah certainly hope so,” she fluttered; some small part of his mind not enraptured by her beauty noted that the flutter seemed a bit forced, but Josiah set it aside.  “There was a dreadful misunderstandin’ and mah only son was taken from me, ah’ve been tryin’ to find him for some time.  This young man says that you had taken in a foundlin’ recently that might be mah Ezra?” 

This lovely creature was Ezra’s mother?  Josiah mentally kicked himself; of course she had to be, the accent alone should have told him that.  Somehow he’d expected something seedier, though, and not so well-off looking.  “You must be Maude Standish, then?” 

She smiled radiantly at him.  “Ah appeah to be in the right place, then.  Tell me, is mah darlin’ boy all right?”  She dashed aside a tear with one slender gloved hand.  “Ah’ve…ah’ve been so very worried about him, he’s mah only remainin’ memory of his father, you see.” 

The falseness was less this time, perhaps through practice; after all, the woman had reportedly done this several times before.  Josiah had a weakness for beautiful blonde women, though, and he again pushed the suspicion aside.  Ezra’s mother might genuinely be sorry for what she’d done, might even be genuinely worried about her boy.  He’d give her a chance.  Offering his arm he said graciously, “Why don’t you let me escort you over to the church and you can see him for yourself?”  She fluttered again when she took his arm, and he smiled down at her.  “Ezra’s been sick the past few days, but he’s going to be just fine.” 

The woman stopped in her tracks.  “He’s been ill?  Is it anythin’ contagious?” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Josiah reassured her, patting the hand that lay so gracefully on his arm as he led her back across the street and ignoring the slightly disgusted tone the question had been uttered in.  “He just took a chill a few days back – pulled two other boys out of the lake, saved them from drownin’.  He’s a mighty fine boy, Ezra.” 

“He can be, when he applies himself,” Maude deflected with a sniff.  “Ah’m certain he’s been on his best behavior for you, Reverend, you are a very imposin’ gentleman.”  She dabbed at her eye again with her free hand.  “But mah Ezra can be a very…troublesome child, ah’m sure you’ll be happy to have him off your hands before he stops bein’ afraid of you and his true nature begins to assert itself.” 

Josiah wasn’t really sure what he should say to that, but luckily they were already entering the church so he didn’t have to come up with a lengthy answer and risk losing his temper in the process – afraid of him!  And she said it like it was a good thing.  “Ezra is a fine boy,” he repeated, ushering her through one half of the double doors.  “His room is right this way, I’m sure he’ll be mighty surprised to see you.” 

Maude nodded and followed him across the body of the church into the preacher’s living area at the back.  Josiah could hear childish laughter as they approached Ezra’s room and it warmed his heart.  He didn’t miss the slight grimace that crossed face of the boy’s mother, however, and was even more shocked by it.  Could she possibly be so cold?  He mentally kicked himself again.  Of course she could, this was the same woman who’d told her son he was a burden because he couldn’t pull his own weight.  Still, though, he wanted to see how she reacted to Ezra, and Ezra to her, so he led her into the little room that the laughter had come from and hoped for the best. 

Ezra was sitting up in bed playing with the chess pieces with Vin; still a little pale in the afternoon light slanting in through the window, he was running one carved wooden knight through the rumpled bedclothes while Vin tried to catch it with two of the others.  Any lingering fascination Josiah might have still had for Maude drained away when he witnessed the little boy’s reaction to his mother.  It was heartbreaking; the happy little face lost all its animation and became an expressionless mask and the bright green eyes widened with apprehension.  Ezra’s whole body stiffened and the knight fell from his hand.  “M-mothah?” 

Maude frowned but didn’t speak.  Ezra swallowed and pushed back his blankets to scramble shakily to his feet; his mother shook her head.  “Ezra, ah believe you must be destined to be a disappointment to me.” 

Vin was tugging at his arm while keeping a wary eye on the woman.  “Ezra, you ain’t supposed to be out of bed…” 

“He’s supposed to show proper respect for his mother,” Maude said crisply.  “Somethin’ he cannot do from a supine position.”  She moved closer and leaned forward slightly, examining her trembling son like he was a livestock animal she was contemplating the purchase of.  “Ah can see that your posture and groomin’ habits have degenerated along with your manners,” she observed scathingly.  Ezra didn’t quite manage not to flinch, and she clucked disapprovingly at him.  “Ah see that’s not all you’ve forgotten.  Well, you are completely useless to me like this; ah shall have to make some other arrangements for your care and…re-education so that you will be ready when ah need you again.”  She leaned down closer to him and the little boy bit his lip but didn’t pull away.  “Ah believe you are aware that it wouldn’t do to disappoint me a second time, correct?”  Ezra nodded and she straightened, brushing invisible dust from her skirt.  “Very well, then, gather your things at once and don’t dawdle.” 

“No, Ezra,” Josiah intoned in a voice that made Maude jerk around.  The big preacher brushed past the stunned woman and went down on one knee beside his white-faced adopted son.  “Vin, go get your father,” he said in a much gentler tone, and the wide-eyed little boy lit out like wolves were after him.  Josiah put his large hands on Ezra’s narrow shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.  “It’s okay, son.  You trust me, right?”  Ezra shot his scowling mother a frightened glance, then swallowed hard and nodded; Josiah smiled at him.  “Vin’s right, you shouldn’t be out of bed and standing on this cold floor,” he rumbled gently, and then scooped the boy up into his arms and held him close, feeling his heart soar when after a second’s hesitation Ezra’s arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck.  He kissed the top of the boy’s head and then turned to face the openmouthed woman.  “Miss Maude, I think you’d best be going now.” 

Shock quickly gave way to anger.  “Ah am not leavin’ without what is mine!” she hissed. 

Josiah’s blue eyes hardened; he tightened his grip on the frightened boy in his arms.  “He ain’t yours anymore,” he said in a quiet, dangerous voice.  “I was willing to let you visit with him as long as you were acting like a mother, but I can see now that an act was all it was.” 

Maude was still spluttering angrily when Chris and Buck stalked in; Chris immediately placed himself squarely between the conwoman and the preacher while Buck hurried to Josiah’s side.  “Hey, little guy,” he said, ruffling Ezra’s hair gently.  “How ‘bout you and me go over to Mrs. Potter’s store, huh?  Vin and JD are over there havin’ some cake with the twins, bet they’d all be right happy to see you.”  He snagged one of the blankets off the bed and wrapped it around the trembling boy as Josiah transferred him into the ladies’ man’s arms.  “There we go, looks like we’re all set.” 

Ezra shot a frightened look at Josiah, who softened immediately and kissed his forehead; it was still a little warm, and the big preacher gave Buck a meaningful look.  “It’s all right, Ezra,” he rumbled softly.  “You’ll be safe with Buck and the other children, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to come home, all right?”  A tight little nod, and Josiah stroked the boy’s pale cheek with a large, callused finger.  “Save me some cake, all right?  Especially if it has raisins in it, you know how I love raisins.”  Another nod, and Buck quickly removed the boy from the church.  Josiah turned back to the fuming woman with none of the just-witnessed gentleness apparent in his demeanor.  “You don’t deserve to be mother to a dog, you know that?  I told you before we came in here that he’d been sick, and the first thing you do is order him out of bed, tell him he’s a disappointment and threaten him not to let it happen again, then tell him to pack his things because you’re leaving.” 

Maude assumed a haughty expression.  “He is mine, to use as I see fit.” 

“He’s a _child_ ,” Josiah corrected.  “Not a possession…” 

“And he ain’t yours anymore,” Chris interjected in a hard voice.  “Mrs. Standish, the local circuit judge approved Ezra’s adoption himself unconditionally on the basis of the orphan home nuns’ sworn testimony; the boy is legally the son of Reverend Sanchez here, and as the law in this town I won’t have you harassing either of them.  I want you out of town within the hour…and don’t come back.” 

The woman started to protest…and then thought better of it.  Her usual ‘act’, as the preacher had called it, was not going to work on these men, and she mentally castigated herself for not playing it up better when she’d first walked into the room and seen her son.  She was justifiably furious with him, though; he knew he was to be ready to be of use to her at a moments notice, and to see how carelessly he had discarded all his training…she was going to have to abandon the scheme she had so carefully planned out, and she was going to make sure Ezra was brought to a full and unforgettable understanding of what his defiance had cost her.  Although perhaps the boy wasn’t worth going to that much bother about, she admitted to herself.  It was only rarely that she actually had a use for him, and when she didn’t he was more of a burden than she liked to have.  And he certainly wasn’t worth getting into any sort of wrangle with a judge over, so perhaps leaving him here was the best option all around – and he was dreadfully sentimental in spite of all her efforts, so if she were to leave and not come back that should be sufficient punishment for his transgressions in this matter.  Yes, that would be ideal all the way around.  In spite of this decision, however, Maude kept her expression schooled to appear to most observers as affronted and perhaps even a little hurt as she told off the two men, made noises about money, connections and a lawyer and then affected her escape. 

Chris and Josiah followed her as far as the church’s double doors and watched her walk briskly back over to the livery, and then continued to watch until her private coach had left in a cloud of dust.  “She won’t be back,” Chris observed.  “I could see it in her eyes, she thought about comin’ back for him and then decided it’d be too much trouble.” 

“Nope – I think it was the thought of the judge that got her.”  Josiah raised an eyebrow at Chris.  “Interesting that he approved my adoptin’ Ezra when he won’t be here for another month, brother.” 

The gunslinger chuckled.  “Didn’t think she needed to know that part – and you know he’ll approve it, especially after we tell him what went on here today.”  He slapped Josiah’s broad shoulder and headed out the door.  “Come on, let’s go tell that boy of yours he don’t have to worry about his mother any more.” 

Josiah smiled and fell into step with him, thinking that Ezra would probably be as relieved by that news as he himself was.  Being a preacher’s son might not be easy…but it was definitely better than being a conwoman’s son.


End file.
